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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847302">Powdered mirror</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thihi/pseuds/Thihi'>Thihi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Disco Elysium (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Break Up, Drugs, M/M, Mental Breakdown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:15:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thihi/pseuds/Thihi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry starts to remember what went down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Powdered mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's not so much his eyes were bloodshot. It's more like you could see small bits of light grey among the dark red veins and sickeningly brown spots. Although he couldn't be sure if the grey bits were really there. He wasn't able to focus for long enough to make sure. It might've just been the dirty sunlight pouring in through the glass smudged with forgotten sins making occasional dots of glare on the mirror. There wasn't a lot of it though. It seemed like the light itself didn't want to touch the semi-transparent mess that had once been a window.</p><p>He stopped looking and sat down. If he had actually looked. He wasn't sure. It might've been something he had just thought up while standing in front of the sink in the toilet. In fact, had he even been standing? Wait. No. He had been slouching on the toilet, thinking about standing up, thinking about looking at himself, while his shrivelled manhood was leaking drugs laced with piss into the sewer. There was shattered glass on the floor tiles.</p><p>The floor tiles reminded him of someone. They were white, orange, yellow, black and brown. Unknown years earlier they had been white. When he was still young, and there was the music. The music. The thought made his facial muscles twitch. Not a lot. Just enough to hurt. The tiles. They had crushed glass on them. Shards. Bloody shards. From the mirror. Suddenly he realised it was when the other man had left. After all the things they had been through together, they had left. After the door had slammed so hard that his head still hurt from the sound. Days, weeks, maybe months later.</p><p>He had crawled into the bathroom then and forced himself up. Actually done it, looked into that frame that lied. Cruel lies, one after the other. It said: you are old. You are ugly. You are no longer disco. You make others look away. LIES! He had hit it. Not once, but until the frame was completely empty. Until all the glass had fallen off and there was only blood left on the wall.</p><p>Kim. Kim had left.</p>
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